


know you better

by theglitterati



Series: know you better & related stories [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, MSBY Black Jackal Team Dynamics, Mental Health Issues, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Post-Time Skip, this is the fic version of a get-along shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: "Work out whatever personal issues you’ve got off the court. You bring it on the court, you’re both off the team. Got it?”Atsumu undertakes the Herculean task of trying to understand Sakusa Kiyoomi, and the even harder one of making Sakusa understand him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: know you better & related stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911892
Comments: 96
Kudos: 1104
Collections: ~SakuAtsu~





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran.
> 
> a few notes:  
> \- for the purposes of this fic, the Black Jackals are based in Tokyo. i have one (1) reason for this and it's stupid and i'll tell you at the end  
> \- speaking of the Black Jackals, i refuse to accept that it's a singular noun  
> \- this could probably be rated T, but i decided on M for a bit of sexy stuff and a bit of mature content. also, like every other word is a swear word

Atsumu opened the gym door as quietly as he could. If no one noticed him, he could pretend he’d been there the whole time, and was not, in fact, arriving twenty minutes late to the first team meeting of the season.

Coach Foster spotted him right away. “Miya. Nice of you to grace us with your presence.”

Atsumu winked at him. “C’mon, Coach. You know I need my beauty sleep.”

“Doesn’t look like you got it last night,” Coach said, eyeing Atsumu up and down. “Go say hello to your new teammates.”

It was a shitty day to be late, but it was hardly Atsumu’s fault. The blame belonged with whoever designed the snooze button on his alarm clock; they made it too damn easy to find with his eyes shut. Now he had to greet the newbies looking like cooked garbage, because he hadn’t had time to shower, _and_ he’d forgotten to take his pills. He was in the pissiest of moods, but he plastered on a fake smile and went to welcome his new disciples.

Bokuto, amidst a crowd of their teammates, saw him first. “Tsum-Tsum’s here!” He stepped back, revealing someone short and orange.

Hinata turned around, a grin like daybreak on his face. “Miya-san!”

He’d grown since Atsumu last saw him, and he looked _good_ ; good enough that Atsumu’s first thought was _I wonder if he's into dudes._ But his energy was the same as ever, that of an excited kid brother you couldn’t help but love.

“Hey, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu said, smiling lazily. Hinata ran to hug him. “Told ya I’d set for ya one day, didn’t I?”

“You did! I’m really excited to hit your tosses!”

“Thanks, kid.” Atsumu ruffled his hair until Hinata stuck his tongue out. One of the benefits of having Hinata around was that Atsumu was no longer the youngest member of the team. He planned on taking advantage of it.

Another benefit was that sweet little Tobio was absolutely gonna hate it. He planned on taking advantage of that, too.

“Hinata Shouyou,” a deep voice said. It was Meian, their captain. “Welcome to the Black Jackals.”

“Thank you, Meian-san!” Hinata bowed so deep he almost fell over.

Meian launched into a welcome speech, Hinata frantically nodding along. Bokuto appeared at Atsumu’s side. “How come you were late? Normally I’m the late one.”

“I was helpin’ a little old lady get her purse back from a mugger,” Atsumu said.

“Really!?”

“No, dummy. I overslept.”

“Oh.” Bokuto pressed the back of his hand to Atsumu’s forehead. “You feeling okay, Tsum-Tsum?”

Atsumu swatted him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Bokuto drove Atsumu up the wall, but he was so damn nice you couldn’t hold anything against him. He and Atsumu joined the Black Jackals in the same year, and before long, he’d become Atsumu’s closest friend on the team. Atsumu couldn’t explain how it happened; maybe he’d gotten used to him, or maybe Bokuto had mellowed out since getting married. Either way, they were stuck with each other.

Meian was still talking. “Should we go say hi to Sakusa?” Bokuto asked.

Their other new member stood across the court, talking with some of the second-string players. “Yeah, probably.”

They made their way over just as the guys Sakusa was with wandered off, leaving him alone. Atsumu walked slowly, taking him in. He hadn’t seen Sakusa in a while, either, but unlike Hinata, Sakusa looked exactly the same as he had in high school. He was a little taller, and he had a nicer haircut, but he still slouched and wore his jacket zipped all the way up to his throat. His ever-present mask was the same, too.

Bokuto got to him first. “Sakusa! Guess who’s the number two ace in the country, now, buddy!?”

“Bokkun,” Atsumu scolded. “Play nice.” Sakusa arched an eyebrow at them, the one with the two moles above it.

“Sorry,” Bokuto said. “I’m happy you’re on my team now, though! Together, we can take down Ushiwaka!”

Sakusa grunted. “Maybe.”

Atsumu spoke up. “Long time no see, Kiyoomi-kun.”

Sakusa’s eyes flicked to him, giving Atsumu the iciest stare he’d ever gotten. “Miya.”

“Uh,” Atsumu stammered. “Welcome to the team, and all that.”

Sakusa nodded once. Man, he was cold. Atsumu would have said it was big-city bad manners, but Bokuto was from Tokyo, too, and he managed not to be a dick. 

“So how was _university?”_ Atsumu couldn’t have kept the sneer out of his voice if he tried. “Have any hot professors?”

“I was there to learn.”

“So prickly. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you.”

“Haha…” Bokuto said weakly. It was not a good sign if even Bokuto was having trouble making conversation; he could talk to a tree if he thought it looked friendly enough.

“I have to speak with Coach Foster,” Sakusa said abruptly. “Excuse me.”

“Alright,” Atsumu said. “See ya, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa stopped in his tracks. “Do not call me that. My name is Sakusa.”

Atsumu shrugged. “Whatever ya say, Omi-Omi.”

Sakusa stormed away, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“I don’t think he likes you,” Bokuto said.

*

When he got home from practice, Atsumu did what every sensible person did after meeting new people: he went on a deep dive through their social media.

He started with Hinata, balancing his laptop on his knees and settling into his couch. Hinata Shouyou, that little ray of sunshine; Atsumu had never forgiven him for beating them at Nationals in his second year, even after they got their revenge on Karasuno in his third.

He was easy to find online. Apparently, he was the kind of person who thought posting good morning messages on Twitter was either necessary or interesting. As much as Atsumu tutted at his oversharing, he couldn’t help smiling as he scrolled through Hinata’s profile. The kid was so damn charismatic. His feed was full of pictures from Brazil, featuring a tan and sexy Hinata in front of beaches and the weird Jesus statue that dominated the Rio skyline.

Atsumu paused at a picture on Instagram of him and a vaguely-familiar Japanese guy. The caption said something about the guy being a great setter. Atsumu smirked. _Not for long_. He’d be Hinata’s favourite soon, even over stupid, number-one-in-the-league Kageyama.

After scrolling way too far through Hinata’s posts, Atsumu searched for Sakusa. He’d known Sakusa a lot longer than Hinata; he’d been lurking around the periphery of Atsumu’s life — at least the part involving volleyball — since middle school, hitting his sets at training camp and hiding in corners at tournaments. He was quiet, pathologically so, but a good player. But Atsumu had heard almost nothing about him since he went to university instead of going pro.

It quickly became clear Atsumu wasn’t going to get any juicy gossip from Sakusa’s Twitter or Instagram. He showed no personality online, his feeds just lists of his greatest accomplishments. Apparently, he’d graduated with honours. Whoop-de-fuckin’-do.

Fortunately, Atsumu had an in with Sakusa that he hadn’t with Hinata: Facebook. He and Sakusa were friends, had added each other when someone nicer than both of them, probably Aran, insisted everyone at training camp keep in touch. Atsumu logged in and searched his name.

He popped right up, his profile picture a bland image of him with a volleyball. Beside it was the Add Friend button.

What the hell? Atsumu clicked to see their mutual friends. _Ojiro Aran, Suna Rintarou, Komori Motoya, Hirugami Sachirou—_ “Oh, fuck no!”

_Miya Osamu._

Deleting him was one thing, but deleting him and NOT Osamu? That was unforgivable. Atsumu logged out of his own account, signed into Osamu’s — what? It was his own damn fault for using the same password since middle school — and clicked around.

There was nothing remotely interesting on Sakusa’s profile, but Atsumu was already worked up. What the hell had he ever done to make Sakusa delete him? Atsumu posted on Facebook maybe once a year; it wasn’t his social media habits. No, Sakusa had gone out of his way to delete him, despite being friends with the rest of Inarizaki, including ‘Samu. 

Objectively, Atsumu knew this was petty and stupid, and not something he should waste time thinking about. But he let plenty of stupid things bother him every day, and this was going to be one of them.

His phone buzzed on the couch.

_Miya Osamu: get off my account scrub_

He must have gotten a new sign-in notification. Atsumu pulled up an old profile picture of Kita’s, commented a bunch of kissy-face emojis on it from Osamu’s account, then logged out and shut his laptop with a click.

*

_Miya Atsumu: you ever hang out with Sakusa??? Does Motoya bring him around_

_Suna Rintarou: yeah sometimes, why?_

_Miya Atsumu: he ever say anything about me?_

_Suna Rintarou: actually yeah_

_Miya Atsumu: ???_

_Suna Rintarou: last time i saw him we sat around talking about you for hours, how great you are, how much everyone wishes they could be you_

_Miya Atsumu: fuck you_

_Suna Rintarou: LOL_

_Suna Rintarou: no he didn’t fucking say anything about you. i’ve seen him like twice_

_Suna Rintarou: we talked about volleyball. idk he’s quiet_

_Suna Rintarou: why are you asking me this? isn’t he on your team now?_

_Miya Atsumu: he was a dick to me at practice. just wanted to know if he’s always like that_

_Suna Rintarou: nah that’s just you. you bring it out in people :)_

_Miya Atsumu: go die asshole_

*

Atsumu let Sakusa’s beef with him bother him until their first practice, which, at least, he was on time for. As soon as they started stretches, Atsumu made a beeline for him.

The reasonable voice in his head, the one that sounded like Kita, told him to give Sakusa the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was nervous when they met the other day. Maybe he deleted Atsumu from Facebook by accident and was too embarrassed to re-add him. But as much as Atsumu hero-worshipped Kita, he had never listened to him very well.

He sat down too close to Sakusa on the mat, spreading his legs and leaning forward onto his elbows. He batted his eyelashes. “Mornin’, Omi-Omi-kun.”

Without the mask on, Atsumu could see how Sakusa’s mouth curled at the nickname. “I told you to call me Sakusa, Miya.”

Atsumu pouted. “But Omi-Omi’s so much more fun. If it makes ya feel better, you can call me Tsum-Tsum— oh, gross!”

Sakusa bent his wrists in a way no human body should ever be bent. Atsumu had heard about his freaky wrists, had seen them in action on the court, but he'd never seen him contort them up close. It was nauseating.

Sakusa ignored him, but Atsumu’s shout drew a crowd.

“Whoa, that’s so weird!” Hinata said gleefully. “Good morning, Miya-san.” Atsumu ruffled his hair again; it was just so ruffle-able. “Can you teach me how to do that, Sakusa-san?”

Sakusa glared. “I have hyperflexible wrists. I can’t teach you how to have them.”

“Let me try!”

“Bokkun, don’t, you’ll get hurt,” Atsumu said. Bokuto backed up, disappointed.

Hinata turned to Atsumu, changing the subject. “Coach said we get to hit some of your tosses first thing today! I’m so excited!”

“Me too, kid. We can take it easy today, but soon enough ya gotta teach me how to do the quick sets ya like. Then we can shove ‘em in Tobio-kun’s face when we play the Adlers.”

Hinata grinned. “Okay!”

“Hey,” Bokuto said, “aren’t you going to give them a talk about hitting your sets?”

“Huh?”

“About how if they fail to hit your tosses, they need to take responsibility for it and not complain?”

Atsumu cringed inwardly. He didn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto that talk had been just for him, because of the rumours Atsumu heard about his “episodes” in high school. Telling him would probably _cause_ an episode, and he’d been relatively chill lately. 

Better to just say it. “Right. Well, I’m not the number two setter in the league for nothin’, ya know? My sets are good, so you all better make sure yer hits are good, too.”

“Tch.” 

Atsumu smiled, the slow, droopy one he knew made people who were already pissed at him even more annoyed. “Ya got a problem with that, Omi-kun?”

“I just think that maybe, if you kept your ego in check, you’d be higher on the list.”

Before Atsumu could say anything, Coach Foster called them into a huddle. Sakusa stood without a word, leaving Atsumu on the floor.

“We’re starting our new hitters first thing today,” Coach Foster said. “Miya, you’ll be setting. Bokuto, you go with Hinata and Sakusa, show them the ropes.” That was a good call; Bokuto would get antsy if he had to watch other people spike. “The rest of you, block and receive. Let’s see what we can do with our new firepower!”

Atsumu dragged a cart of balls over to the net. Sato, one of the second-stringers, volunteered to throw for him. The three hitters lined up, Bokuto jostling to be first despite this having nothing to do with him, Sakusa gravitating toward the end of the line. Sato threw the first ball, and Bokuto started running.

Tossing for Bokuto for easy; he liked his sets high, and in specific spots he felt comfortable hitting from. He’d probably want to do a cross, with Meian and Tomas blocking. Atsumu touched the ball, guiding it to the right spot—

 _BAM!_ The block failed, and Bokuto smashed the ball down in the far corner of the court. “Hey, hey, hey!” he yelled. “Awesome set, Tsum-Tsum! It felt almost like one of Akaashi’s!”

Atsumu’s face fell. He couldn’t even get mad, because Bokuto genuinely thought that was a compliment. Atsumu was never going to be able to compete with Bokuto’s husband, but still. A guy had feelings. “Nice shot, Bokkun.”

Hinata was next. Atsumu knew what to do; he’d seen Tobio do it a million times. He spun the ball in a fast arc that fell right in front of Hinata’s hand, hovering in mid-air for a split second. He messed up a bit; the ball was too low. He’d forgotten how high Hinata could jump. But Hinata hit it anyway, slipping it through a gap in the block and sending it down to the ground. “I did it! That was amazing!”

“Nah,” Atsumu said. “It was too low, wasn’t it?”

“Well, maybe a little,” Hinata admitted. “But it was still great!”

“I’ll get it next time,” Atsumu promised.

Hinata went to the back of the line, leaving Sakusa in front. His face was blank as he waited for the toss.

Atsumu wavered. Should he ask Sakusa what he wanted? He had no idea what he liked, but he also didn’t want to hear whatever mean thing Sakusa’d have to say if he asked. He decided to give him something simple and go from there.

Atsumu sent Sakusa a slow, light set that any decent middle schooler could have hit. Sakusa spiked it easily. It got past the block; Inunaki tried to pick it up, but it spun off his hands, leaving him open-mouthed. “Damn.”

Atsumu felt pretty good. “Nice job, Omi—”

“That was too close to the net, and too low,” Sakusa snapped.

Atsumu’s mouth drew into a sharp line. _Fine._ He’d told them to tell him what he wanted. Now he’d adjust.

Adjust he did, but with Sakusa, it was never good enough. He found something to complain about with every set Atsumu gave him. Too fast, too slow. Too high, too low. Too close to the net, too far from it.

“You’ve hit every single one past the block!” Atsumu protested after their seventh try.

Sakusa stared him down. “Because I’m good at what I do.”

Atsumu didn’t miss the implication that he _wasn’t_ good at what he did. He all but flung the ball at him.

Who the damn hell did Sakusa think he was? He’d been fucking around in college leagues for years while Atsumu clawed his way to a starting spot on one of the best teams in the division. Now he waltzes in and tells Atsumu his sets, the sets that got them to the final game last year, aren’t good enough? And why just him? Sure, Sakusa didn’t seem crazy about anyone on the team, but why was it just Atsumu he treated like trash?

Atsumu gritted his teeth and sent two perfect sets to Bokuto and Hinata, to remind himself he could. Then he sent Sakusa the shittiest set possible, right at the edge of the net. He was forced to admit Sakusa actually _was_ good when he managed to score off it.

“What the hell was that?” Sakusa yelled.

“A set, Omi-kun. Didja have trouble hittin’ it?”

Atsumu wondered if he’d back off, but Sakusa dug in his heels. “How did I ever get so unlucky to have ended up on a team with you?” 

The gym fell silent around them.

Atsumu snarled. “You goddamn entitled, stuck-up, germaphobic piece of—”

“Miya! Sakusa!” Coach Foster, who Atsumu had completely forgotten was there, looked livid. “Get in my office. Now.”

Sakusa practically ran from the gym; from the look on his face, he’d only just realized what he’d said. Atsumu made himself follow at a leisurely pace. He was shaking with nerves, but he wasn’t going to make a show of it.

Coach Foster’s office was in a hallway off the gym. Atsumu took the chair beside Sakusa in front of the desk. Neither of them said a word. Foster followed them in a minute later.

“Do you two have some sort of history I need to know about it?”

“No, sir,” Sakusa muttered at the ground.

Foster looked at Atsumu. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then what exactly was that?”

“A lapse in judgement,” Sakusa said. “It won’t happen again. Sir.”

“Miya?”

Atsumu felt like when he used to get called to the principal’s office for fighting with ‘Samu, except this time he actually felt guilty. “Sorry, Coach. I’ll be good.”

“You better. I don’t ever want to see you two fighting like that again. Work out whatever personal issues you’ve got off the court. You bring it on the court, you’re both off the team. Got it?”

Atsumu’s jaw dropped. He’d been in trouble before, but never like this. “Yes, Coach.”

Sakusa bowed. “Understood.”

“Good. You can both go home for the day. Show up tomorrow with better attitudes.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them.

Sakusa hurried out of the room. Atsumu followed, stunned. This team was everything to him. He could not let Sakusa jeopardize his place on it.

“Hey, Omi—”

Sakusa was already at the end of the hall. He opened the door, stepped through, and slammed it in Atsumu’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

Bokuto and Hinata were waiting for them in the locker room, powering through protein bars while on break.

“What happened?” Bokuto asked.

“We both got fired,” Atsumu said.

“What!?”

“‘M jokin’. Coach told us not to fight anymore and sent us home for the day.” Atsumu plopped down on a bench. He hadn’t done much playing, but he was exhausted.

Sakusa loomed over him. “This is a joke to you, Miya?”

Atsumu deflated. “Nah, not really. I’ve never been called to Coach’s office before, and I’m not happy about it. Speakin’ of, you gonna apologize anytime soon?”

“Apologize for what?”

“For nitpickin’ my sets, and for being a dick in general since ya got here.”

Sakusa balked. _“I’m_ being a dick!?”

“Yeah, Omi-kun, ya sure are.”

“Don’t call me Omi-kun!”

“Hey, whoa, whoa!” Bokuto put himself between them. “What is the matter with you two?”

“He started it,” Atsumu muttered.

“You’re a fucking child,” Sakusa spat back.

“Oookay,” Bokuto said. “We need to come up with a plan for you guys to get along, ‘cause this” — he gestured between the two of them — “is not working.”

“Well, whaddaya think we should do, oh wise one?” Atsumu couldn’t think of a plan in the world that would end in him and Sakusa being buds.

“This happened to me before, too,” Hinata piped up. “In high school, when I joined the volleyball club, me and Kageyama didn’t get along, so Daichi-san kicked us out of practice until we did.”

Atsumu could hardly blame Hinata; Kageyama was a tough nut to crack. “What did you do?”

“Uh…” Hinata thought about it. “We challenged the upperclassmen to a duel.”

“That worked?” Sakusa asked.

“Kinda. Not really. We got to come back to practice, but we still didn’t get along.”

“What changed?” Atsumu asked. “Aren’t you two, like, besties now?”

Hinata wrinkled his nose. “We’re not _besties._ But I dunno. We got to know each other better, I guess. He was still annoying most of the time, but sometimes he wasn’t, so it was okay. And we got better at playing together. That helped.”

“That’s what you guys need to do!” Bokuto shouted. His voice echoed off the change room walls.

“What, practice together? I think we figured out that isn’t workin’.”

“No, get to know each other! Okay— you didn’t like me when we first met, right, Tsum-Tsum?”

“What? I—” This felt like a trap.

“But then you _got to know_ me, and now you love me! You just need to get to know Omi-Omi, and you’ll like him, too! And Omi-Omi, you need to get to know all of us—”

“I’d rather not.”

“—‘cause if you guys keep fighting and someone is kicked off the team, it’s probably gonna be you.” Atsumu flinched. Bokuto could be scary sometimes.

Scary or not, he was right. Atsumu had been around a lot longer, and the team needed a solid setter more than another ace. “Right," Sakusa said shakily.

“So that’s what you’re gonna do,” Bokuto decided. “You’re gonna hang out, and Omi’s gonna hang out with us, and we’re all gonna be friends! But what should we do first? Oh, I know!” he said, answering his own question. “You should all come over to my place for dinner tomorrow!”

“That’s a great idea, Koutarou-kun.” Meian stepped out from behind a row of lockers. Atsumu hadn’t even realized he was in the room. “It’s better than mine, which was to lock the two of them in a closet until they either worked their issues out or starved.”

Meian came closer, his presence sending Sakusa onto the bench beside Atsumu.

“I am happy to have both of you on my team, and I would like for both of you to remain on that team. So please, figure out your differences. We only have a few months until our first game, and I want us to be a cohesive unit out there. Understand?”

Atsumu saluted him. “Aye aye, captain.”

“Sakusa?”

“I’ll do it.” Sakusa stared at his hands. “I want to stay on the team.” He sounded like he was agreeing to go to the guillotine, not a dinner party.

“I can’t go tomorrow night,” Hinata said. “I told Azumane-san I’d have dinner with him.”

“That’s okay, Shouyou-kun,” Meian said. “You’re not the one in trouble here.”

Hinata pouted. “I know. I just hate being left out...” 

“Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto said. “You’re okay for tomorrow?”

“I’ll come,” Atsumu said, “but only if Keiji-kun does all the cooking. I’m not touchin’ anything you make.”

“Deal!”

*

Atsumu arrived early to Bokuto’s the next evening. He decided to be polite and wait downstairs for Sakusa. Now that the heat of the moment had faded, Atsumu felt kind of gross and guilty about their argument. Plus, he didn’t feel like third-wheeling.

Sakusa showed up ten minutes later. The night was hot as hell, but he wore his jacket zipped to the top as usual. Atsumu was in shorts and a t-shirt.

Sakusa stopped short when he saw him. “What are you doing?”

“Waitin’ for you.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m bein’ fuckin’ nice or whatever. C’mon, I’ll let ‘em know we’re here.” Atsumu rang the buzzer for Bokuto and Akaashi’s apartment.

“Miya.”

“Yeah?”

“About yesterday.” Sakusa scuffed his toe on the pavement like a little kid. “Sorry.” Atsumu waited for more, but Sakusa said nothing else.

It was a shit apology; Atsumu wanted to make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Yeah, me too. Let’s just go.”

Bokuto buzzed them into the building. They took the elevator upstairs. As a gift, Sakusa had brought an expensive bottle of wine. Atsumu’s gift was cheap, but he knew their hosts would like it better. He held out the box to Sakusa. “Ya wanna steal one before Akaashi gets at them?”

Sakusa scrunched his nose. “I don’t eat onigiri.”

Atsumu sighed heavily. Seriously, how was he supposed to get along with this guy?

“You’re here!” Bokuto was waiting for them, hanging out the door of his apartment. “And you got here together! That’s great!”

“Yer too easily pleased, Bokkun.” Atsumu shouldered past him and removed his shoes. “Heya, Keiji-kun.”

“Miya-san,” Akaashi greeted him warmly. He zeroed in on the onigiri. “Did your brother make these?”

“Sadly, I did, but I used the family recipe. They might be a bit crumbly, but they’ll taste good.”

Akaashi grinned. “I’ll take it.”

“Omi-kun, don’t just stand there,” Bokuto bellowed. “Come inside!” Sakusa slouched through the door. He was the tallest one there, but he hid it well, closing in on himself. “You know my husband, obviously.”

Akaashi’s smile faltered. “Um, hi, Sakusa-san.”

“Akaashi.” They stared at each other, not speaking.

“Oh, don’t be all weird with each other.” Bokuto put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Just ‘cause Fukurodani creamed Itachiyama in your last year—”

“Koutarou—”

“They did not _cream_ us.”

“Oh, everyone calm down,” Atsumu said. “Ya both did better than Inarizaki, so suck it.”

“I hope there are no hard feelings, Sakusa-san,” Akaashi said.

Sakusa shrugged. “It was high school.”

“Let’s open that bottle of wine, then.” Akaashi ushered him away to the kitchen, leaving Bokuto and Atsumu alone.

“Fukurodani did cream them, though,” Bokuto said.

Atsumu snorted. “Oh, I remember.”

Dinner was a hot, rich curry that Bokuto definitely had nothing to do with. They opened the onigiri as well; Sakusa refused to eat one, even when pressed.

Atsumu and Bokuto talked about the years they had played for the Black Jackals before Sakusa joined the team, and then Sakusa and Akaashi traded stories about their university days. Atsumu found out Sakusa had studied philosophy, which was both more interesting and more pretentious than he expected of him.

Atsumu really needed to get rid of the chip he had on his shoulder about university people. It all just seemed so hoity-toity to him. He grew up in a small town in the country; your two choices after high school were farming or playing volleyball. Neither of his parents had gone to university, nor had most of his friends. Hearing them talk about it, he couldn't help feeling self-conscious.

Even with the college talk, it was a nice night. Until Bokuto ruined it.

“So, Omi-Omi, you got a girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Sakusa said.

“Or a boyfriend!” Bokuto took Akaashi’s hand. “Obviously, we aren’t judging you.”

“I know _you’re_ not,” Sakusa said, with a pointed glance at Atsumu.

“What are ya lookin’ at me for?” Atsumu said.

Sakusa made a face. “You just don’t seem very open-minded.”

“Hah! The couple dozen guys I’ve slept with would tell ya different.”

“Pardon me?”

“Tsum-Tsum’s gay, too,” Bokuto clarified.

“I think he got that, Kou,” Akaashi said.

“If you’re gay, why do you have a fan club of women?” Sakusa asked.

“Just ‘cause I’m not interested in ladies doesn’t mean I’d deprive them of my good looks and charm,” Atsumu said. 

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “So it’s vanity. I should have assumed that.”

Atsumu took a sip of his wine; it was bitter. “Yeah, I guess ya should have.”

Akaashi deftly steered the conversation away from their love lives. Atsumu appreciated that his sense for emotions extended further than his husband. Atsumu was spared having to embarrass himself, and Sakusa was excused from answering a question he clearly did not want to answer.

But Atsumu couldn’t get the sour taste out of his mouth. As Akaashi gushed about Bokuto’s latest endorsement deal, he was reminded why, even though he liked Bokuto and Akaashi a lot, he always felt a little sick after spending too much time here. The two of them were so damn happy together that Atsumu couldn’t help but be reminded of how much of a mess he was. He knew their relationship wasn’t perfect — he’d seen the case of pills Bokuto carried around, even bigger than his own, and while he didn’t know Akaashi well enough to see the skeletons in his closet, nobody in the world was that put-together all the time — but at least they had a relationship. At least they didn’t have to hide, or feel ashamed.

He was relieved when Sakusa made excuses to go home early. “I should go too.”

Akaashi walked them to the door. “It was nice having you both. I hope we can do this again.”

“Thanks, Keiji-kun,” Atsumu said. Sakusa grunted something like a thank you. “See ya tomorrow, Bokkun?”

“Bright and early!”

They left the apartment together and walked down the hall to wait for the elevator. “Well, we didn’t kill each other,” Atsumu said.

“Not yet. I assume we’re both heading to the train station?”

“Yep.”

“Then there’s still time.”

Atsumu was happy to pass that time in silence, but halfway to the station, Sakusa spoke up. “Miya?”

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you out to the fans?”

“Ugh. Do we have to talk about this?”

“No.”

“Ugh,” Atsumu said again, because he was going to anyway. “It’s like, the league’s changin’, but it’s slow, ya know? Sure, Bokuto’s out, but he’s, like, the poster child for gay people. He’s married, his husband’s successful and attractive, he’s always goin’ on about how they want kids. That kinda thing appeals to people. My life doesn’t.” Atsumu’s self-esteem issues and random hookups appealed to a small number of people, most of whom weren’t volleyball fans.

“Is that the team’s opinion?” Sakusa asked.

“No, it’s mine.” Coach Foster had promised that when Atsumu wanted to come out, he’d support him. “But we’ve all got our roles to play for the team. You’re the volleyball robot-type, like Tobio or Ushiwaka. Hinata and Hoshiumi are the firecrackers. I’m the pretty boy. If that's what sells tickets and keeps me playin’ longer, then fine.”

“That’s surprisingly mature, coming from you.”

“Thanks, ya jerk.”

Sakusa was quiet. They had reached the train station. “I’m gay, too,” he said.

“I kinda figured when ya got all awkward at dinner.”

“Very few people know. I’m not interested in the team finding out.”

“Then why are ya tellin’ me? Thought I was your worst enemy.”

Sakusa considered that. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. You told me something personal; I returned the favour.”

“Wow, Omi-kun. Glad tellin’ ya about my tragic life unlocked a single piece of information. One I’d already guessed, too. Can I at least know yer favourite colour?”

“It’s black.”

“‘Course it is.”

A train thundered into the station. “That’s mine. Goodnight, Miya.”

Atsumu waved wearily. “See ya, Omi-kun.”

He realized, as Sakusa’s train pulled out of the station, that he hadn’t once today complained about the nickname.


	3. Chapter 3

“Atsumu-san! How was dinner last night?”

“Delicious.” Atsumu made a chef’s kiss motion in the air. “Akaashi cooks like a god. You missed out, Shouyou-kun.”

“Aww,” Hinata whined. “Now I’m even more sad I couldn’t come.”

“Don’t worry, kid, you’ll get your chance to hang out with the love birds soon. Maybe if yer lucky, they’ll adopt ya.”

“I know you’re joking, but that would be amazing.” Atsumu snorted. “So are you and Sakusa-san friends now?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. But we didn’t fight at all last night, so we’ll probably make it— speak of the devil. Mornin’, Omi-kun.” Sakusa came around the corner, blinking sleepily.

“Miya. Hinata.” He nodded to them and entered the change room without another word.

“See?” Atsumu said. “Progress.”

*

They made progress on the court, too. Once they checked their egos, Sakusa started asking nicely for the kind of sets he wanted, and Atsumu started delivering. After a few weeks of improvement, Coach Foster pulled Atsumu aside to tell him how proud he was of Atsumu’s increasing maturity. Atsumu squirmed away, saying, “Thanks, Dad,” but it was actually kind of sweet.

But there was still something missing.

“It’s like, when you set for Hinata, he hits it like _wham!”_ Bokuto explained one day after practice. Atsumu, as he often did at times like this, missed Aran profoundly. “But when you set for Sakusa, it’s like… eh.”

“Is it like ‘eh?’” Atsumu asked Sakusa. Sakusa, earbuds in, didn’t answer. Atsumu yanked them out. “Are my sets like ‘eh’ to you?!”

“What.”

“I was _saying,”_ Bokuto continued, “it’s like you guys aren’t in sync.”

“We’re not,” Atsumu and Sakusa said at the same time. They glared at each other.

“Creepy,” Hinata said.

“Maybe you didn’t spend enough time together,” Bokuto said. “You haven’t hung out since we had dinner.”

“We see each other at practice all the time,” Atsumu pointed out.

“But that’s not the same as hanging out and getting to know each other!”

“Bokkun, not that I don’t love yer crazy brain, but I’m not sure—”

“Maybe he’s right,” Sakusa said.

Atsumu gaped at him. “You too?”

“I don’t relish the idea of spending time with you outside of the gym, but I’m not playing up to my usual standard, and practice alone doesn’t seem to be working.”

Atsumu made a face. “So yer sayin’ you’ll tolerate me for the sake of volleyball.”

“Exactly.”

Atsumu looked to Hinata and Bokuto for support, but both of them just smiled. “Fine. When?”

“Saturday?”

Atsumu stretched a hand out, inspecting his nails. “I guess I could clear my schedule.” He’d have to postpone his usual weekend plans: random sex, prank-calling Osamu, and watching TV alone. “What are we gonna do? Slumber party? Braid each other’s hair?”

Sakusa scowled. “You’re not touching my hair.”

*

_Miya Atsumu: heya Aran-kuuun i miss ya and wanna hear all about your life soon but GUESS WHAT I’M DOING RIGHT NOW_

_Ojiro Aran: Hello lol miss ya too_

_Ojiro Aran: Whatcha doin’_

_Miya Atsumu: going to Sakusa Kiyoomi’s apartment lol_

_Miya Atsumu: isn’t that weird?_

_Ojiro Aran: ya lol that’s weird_

_Ojiro Aran: why are you going?_

_Ojiro Aran: oh wait ‘cause you’re teammates now. i forgot_

_Miya Atsumu: aww yer too famous for me now Aran-kun :(_

_Ojiro Aran: you know it lol_

_Ojiro Aran: what are you guys gonna do_

_Miya Atsumu: no idea. he told me to bring a book_

_Ojiro Aran: ??_

_Ojiro Aran: didja bring one_

_Miya Atsumu: fuckin’ no lol. you think i had a book lying around?_

*

Atsumu assumed Sakusa lived in an ultra-fancy highrise tower like Bokuto and Akaashi. He was surprised to find, when he arrived at the address Sakusa had given him, a small, older building a lot like his own. He waited for Sakusa to buzz him in, then went upstairs. Sakusa’s gloomy face greeted him at the door.

The apartment wasn’t what he expected, either. It was clean, much cleaner than his own, but not spotless; there were coats thrown over chairs, a stray volleyball in the corner. Even Sakusa seemed more relaxed, his zipper left undone and his hair wet from a shower.

“Take your shoes off and put those on.” He pointed to a pair of slippers. They looked brand new.

“Okay, Ojiisan,” Atsumu said, but he did as he was told. The slippers were comfy.

He got a few steps inside before stopping in his tracks. “Omi-kun, why do ya have a roast chicken on yer coach?!”

Sakusa leered at him. “That’s my cat, stupid.”

The roast chicken moved, revealing paws and a pointy tail. “Doesn’t look like any cat I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a Sphynx. A hairless cat,” he clarified, when Atsumu just stared at him. “Her name is Mimi.”

“Mimi?”

“My family got her when I was twelve. After university, I brought her to live with me. I’ve always been her favourite.” He lifted Mimi off the couch and into his arms, where she settled comfortably.

“You have a cat,” Atsumu said. “You, Sakusa Kiyoomi, have a cat.”

“Why is that weird?”

“Uh, ‘cause yer a germaphobe, for one. Pretty sure that thing shits in a box, unless she’s toilet-trained.” He really hoped she wasn’t toilet-trained.

Sakusa opened a door off the living room and flicked on the light. Inside was a washer and dryer, and what looked like a tiny spaceship. “It’s an automatic litter box. I don’t have to touch anything.”

“How much did that cost!? No, don’t tell me.” Atsumu was sure it was too much.

“Second reason,” he continued, “yer, like, you know…” It probably wasn’t a good idea to call Sakusa cold to his face. “Ya don’t seem to enjoy company.” 

“I don’t enjoy _your_ company,” Sakusa said, ignoring the fact that he was the one who invited Atsumu over. “Mimi and I get along fine.” He held the cat out to Atsumu. “You can pet her, if you’d like.”

Atsumu reached out, then whipped his hand back when Mimi swiped at it, hissing. Sakusa laughed.

“You knew that would happen!”

“Mimi has good taste.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Atsumu shrugged his backpack off, dropping it on the couch. “Here, I got ya this.” He took a bottle of green juice from the bag and put it on the table. “Seen ya drinkin’ them at practice.”

“Why did you bring it?”

“‘Cause you invited me over, and when someone invites you over, you bring a gift. Dontcha know that, Omi-Kun?”

“Of course I know that,” Sakusa snapped. “I just didn’t think you would.”

“Fuck you! I’ve got good manners,” Atsumu said proudly.

Sakusa stared at the drink. “Well, thank you.”

Even when he said thank you, he sounded like an asshole. “So what are we doin’ today?”

Sakusa sat on the couch, motioning for Atsumu to join him. He picked up a book from the table. “Did you bring a book like I asked?”

“No,” Atsumu said with a snort. “I thought you were jokin’.”

“I was not. You can pick something out from the shelf.” A well-stocked bookshelf stood in the corner of the room. Sakusa opened his own book and started reading.

“Omi-kun?”

“Yes?”

“Are ya shittin’ me? You want us to sit here and _read_ together?”

“No, I’m not _shitting_ you. You said you wanted to get to know me.” Atsumu did not remember saying that. “This is what I enjoy doing.”

Of course it was. Atsumu would rather have jumped into a pit of spiders. “I don’t think I’m gonna get to know ya by readin’ a book.”

“You won’t get to know me by leaving, either. So stay and read, or go.”

Atsumu jiggled his leg, thinking. “If I do this, will ya do somethin’ I wanna do next time?”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“There’s gonna have to be if this is yer plan, ‘cause it’s not gonna work!”

Sakusa pursed his lips. “Fine.”

“Anything I say?”

“Within limits.”

Atsumu winked. “Tell me yer limits and I’ll make sure to toe right along the edge of them.”

“Just shut up and get a book.”

Atsumu perused the shelf. Sakusa was reading a fantasy novel, and he seemed to have a lot of them. Those were out: they were all too long, and would have a lot of weird kanji. There were other novels by authors whose names Atsumu recognized from high school literature class, and some by foreign authors he didn’t know.

“No manga?” he asked Sakusa.

“I left them at my parents’ house.”

Atsumu chose a translation of a Swedish detective novel at random. He sat on the couch, far from where Mimi had curled up at Sakusa’s side, glowering at him. He opened the book and stared at the first page. 

Kanji swam across it, looping around each other, blurring against the sharp white paper. Atsumu blinked, and blinked again. Yeah, he definitely couldn’t do this.

It took Sakusa ten minutes to realize Atsumu hadn't turned the page. “Miya, please tell me you’re not illiterate.”

“I know how to read, asshole. I read every day.” Street signs, tweets, nutrition labels. “I just can’t read books.”

Sakusa shut his own novel. “Why?” he asked, curious.

Atsumu frowned. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“No.” Sakusa went back to his book.

“Ugh.” How did Sakusa keep doing this to him, making him spill all his secrets?

“When I was a little kid, in elementary school, I had this teacher. Yamada-sensei. She was a real fuckin’ bitch.”

“Nice, Miya.”

“It’s true! She was horrible, and it was the first year me and ‘Samu weren’t in the same class, so I had to deal with her alone.

“We started readin’ real novels that year, and I was bad at it. I liked reading, it just took me a long time, ya know? Like, it took ‘Samu a long time, too, but it took me a _weirdly_ long time.

“Yamada-sensei was really mean about it. She never gave me the time I needed to get the work done, so my grades got real bad. She made me stay after class every day, but only to punish me, not to help. After that, I dreaded havin' to read. Even when she wasn’t my teacher anymore, I couldn’t do it. The words would just swim on the page. Even now, I have a lotta trouble with it.”

Sakusa’s mouth scrunched up so tightly Atsumu thought it might disappear. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“I don’t want yer pity. That’s not why I told ya—”

“No, I’m sorry I made a joke about you being illiterate. That was rude.”

Atsumu fidgeted uncomfortably. “Whatever, Omi-kun. I don’t mind. I just don’t think I’m up for tryin’ to read right now. You can keep going, and I’ll just play on my phone or whatever.”

Sakusa, to Atsumu’s complete lack of surprise, did not look satisfied. He clicked his tongue, then asked, “What kind of books did you like to read? Before that happened.”

“I dunno. Normal stuff. Manga, Harry Potter.”

Sakusa grabbed his laptop from across the room, opened it and typed furiously. 

“Whatcha doin?”

“Shh. Here.” He played a video on Youtube; the first chapter of Harry Potter, narrated in Japanese. “Does this work? If you don’t have to read the words?”

Atsumu listened. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“So you don’t dislike books,” Sakusa said. “It’s just that text is difficult for you to read.”

“Wow, yer smart, Omi-kun. Didja go to college or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” Sakusa said, but there was no heat behind it. “Do you want to keep listening or not?”

“Sure, but I need somethin’ to do with my hands. I can’t just stare at the wall.”

Sakusa threw him the volleyball from the corner. “Here. Go nuts.”

They passed two hours that way, Sakusa slouching on the couch with Mimi in his lap, Atsumu lying on the floor, setting the ball over his head. It was easy to listen to the story when he already knew what happened; his attention could drift in and out without him losing his place. He or Sakusa made the occasional comment, but mostly they stayed quiet. It was only when the sun began to set that Atsumu realized how late it was.

“Shit, I should probably go home.”

Sakusa stretched his arms over his head, displacing Mimi from his lap. “Okay.”

Atsumu got up from the floor. “This… wasn’t horrible, Omi-Omi.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be. Thanks for puttin’ up with the audiobook. I know you probably wanted to read yer own thing.”

“This was fine.”

Atsumu put on his backpack and changed back into his shoes. “You good to hang out next Wednesday? We don’t have practice.”

“You don’t want to wait until the weekend?”

“No, why?”

“I assume you’re going to drag me to a club or something.”

Atsumu laughed. “I’m not that cruel. Ya’d drop dead and the team’d lose a perfectly decent hitter. Nah, this is a weekday activity. The place won’t be so busy.”

Sakusa shrugged. “Alright.”

“See ya later, Omi-kun.” He nodded to Mimi. “Later, demon.”

Sakusa made a face. “Goodnight.”

*

_Ojiro Aran: so how was your day with Sakusa lol_

_Miya Atsumu: you know, it wasn’t that bad_

_Ojiro Aran: really? :o_

_Ojiro Aran: wow_

_Miya Atsumu: I know, dude, I fuckin’ know_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: there's a brief mention of suicide in this chapter.

Atsumu picked Sakusa up early Wednesday morning. Sakusa looked sleepy again; Atsumu was starting to think it was the permanent state of his face. He frowned as he got in the car.

“Is this yours?”

“Yep.” Atsumu stroked the leather detailing on the dashboard. “Whaddaya think?”

“It’s nice.”

Atsumu snorted. “It’s a rental. What would I need a car in Tokyo for?”

“Vanity.”

“Touché.”

Atsumu took them out of the city, heading west. Sakusa got twitchier the longer they drove, probably because Atsumu was doing twenty over the limit. He was actually a good driver, but he didn’t intend to let Sakusa find out. He’d get too comfortable.

“Just ask me already,” Atsumu said.

“Ask you what?”

“Where we’re goin’. I can feel you shakin’ over there.”

“My guess is a cabin in the woods where you’re going to disembowel me. If I’m right, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Yer funny, thinkin’ I’d plan that much. If I wanted to kill ya, I’d have just run ya over with the car.” Sakusa did not laugh. “What, you can make jokes and I can’t?”

“Yours aren’t funny.”

Atsumu grinned. “Sure they are. For that, I’m not gonna tell ya where we’re goin’. Ya gotta guess.”

“I have no information to base an actual guess on.”

“Ya got plenty. I told ya what to wear, didn’t I?”

Sakusa pulled out his phone. “You said, ‘don’t wear any fancy-ass shoes you can’t walk in.’”

“Well, that’s a decent hint, I think.”

Sakusa chewed his lip. Atsumu was surprised he was playing along, but there wasn’t much else to do. He pointed at the cooler in the backseat. “Is that food?”

“Lunch, for both of us—” Sakusa’s eyes bugged. “Calm down, it’s all pre-packaged stuff, nothin’ weird.”

Sakusa relaxed back into his seat. “That doesn’t help me figure out where we’re going.”

He still hadn’t guessed by the time Atsumu pulled into the parking lot at the trailhead. “We’re here.”

“We’re going... hiking?”

“Ding ding ding. Ya got it.”

“Oh…,” Sakusa said. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

He frowned. “What do you want me to say?”

“I dunno. I kinda thought you’d hate it.”

They got out of the car. “Is that why you chose it?”

“Maybe.” Sakusa glared. “No. I just come here a lot, that’s all. I grew up in the country. Tokyo’s fun and all, but it makes me itchy. Sometimes I just wanna see a freakin’ tree, ya know?”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

They packed their lunches into their backpacks, locked the car, and set off on foot. “Shouldn’t we be wearing hiking boots?” Sakusa asked.

“Nah, it’s more of a walk than a hike. No steep hills or anything. We’ll be fine, as long as you don’t push me off any cliffs.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

They walked down a shady, slightly-overgrown forest path, birds and critters flickering by. Atsumu had been right to come on a weekday; the trail was empty save a few elderly people who smiled when they passed them. They walked slower than Atsumu was used to; Sakusa stopped every time he saw a new species of bird to take its picture.

“I’d make fun of you for this, but it’s kinda sweet,” Atsumu said, after Sakusa spent five minutes getting the perfect shot of a starling.

“Mm,” Sakusa murmured. They started walking again. “Why did you think I would hate this?”

“I dunno. Dirt, bugs, mud.” The sky was clear, but it had rained the day before, leaving the path soft and squishy. “Those seem like the kinds of things that’d gross you out.”

“I’m not grossed out by nature,” Sakusa snapped.

Atsumu winced. “Sorry. I dunno what sets you off.”

“Then ask!” Sakusa exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “People always make assumptions about mysophobia—”

“Miso-what?”

“It’s the correct term for a fear of germs.” Atsumu had already forgotten it. “If you want to know about it, ask.”

“Okay. I will.” Atsumu clasped his hands behind his back. “What bugs ya the most?”

“People.” 

Atsumu laughed. “Now that, I coulda guessed.”

“Crowds are the worst. I don’t like thinking about everyone breathing the same air. All the things they’ve touched, how they might touch me.” He shivered, despite the warm weather. “It’s disgusting.”

“Then how come you play volleyball?” Atsumu asked, before he could help himself. “Yer not only with people, but yer gettin’ all sweaty, too. I’ve seen ya high five teammates before. And everyone touches the ball.”

Sakusa gazed up at the canopy. “For some reason, when I’m on the court, nothing bothers me.”

“But how can ya turn it off like that?”

“I don’t know!” Sakusa blurted, his voice loud in the quiet of the forest. He’d emoted more in the last two minutes than in the entire rest of the time Atsumu had known him. “It’s not rational, and I know it’s not rational, and I hate it! Things that wouldn’t bother anyone else keep me up at night, but other things, I don’t even notice. I’m not turning it off; some things just affect me less.”

Atsumu slowed, taking his words in. “I guess I get it.”

“You do?”

“Not really. But it sounds hard to get.”

“People think I do it on purpose,” Sakusa mumbled. “But I can’t control it.”

“I don’t think anyone would choose to be like you on purpose, Omi-kun.” Atsumu gave him a playful shove. _Shit_ , he thought immediately. Sakusa had just told him he didn’t like people touching him. “Sorry.”

But he didn’t seem bothered. “It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

They continued down the path. There was a creek nearby; it was hidden by the trees, but its burbling sounds carried through the woods.

“So how do ya, like… date and stuff?” The question had been in Atsumu’s mind for years, since the first time he’d seen Sakusa hiding in the corner at training camp.

“I don’t, mostly,” Sakusa said. “But with certain people, the disgust either goes away, or it’s never there in the first place. Motoya, for example. It never bothered me when he would touch me or share my food. My parents and siblings don’t bother me.” He paused. “Bokuto bothers me more than most.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the way he eats,” Atsumu said.

“It’s heinous.” Sakusa fiddled with his zipper. “You don’t bother me much.”

Atsumu was shocked, so shocked he couldn’t do anything but make a joke. “Yer sayin’ ya don’t find me physically repellent!? That’s the nicest thing you've ever—”

Sakusa hit him in the stomach. “Shut up.”

Atsumu wasn’t sure he liked Sakusa being okay with touching him.

They reached the creek. It wasn’t much, a stream of water punctured every few inches by tall grass. Still, tiny fish swam through it. Sakusa took a picture of them.

They agreed to stop there for lunch. Sakusa perched on a big rock and Atsumu stretched out on the ground, ignoring the cool dampness on his butt. 

He watched Sakusa eat the sandwich he’d bought for him. He picked it apart and inspected it like a crime scene, but he did finish it. When he was done, he folded the wrapper and leaned back, gazing at the stream. The creases that always sat between his eyebrows smoothed out, and without his mask, Atsumu could see a tiny smile on his lips. He actually looked happy.

“Miya.”

“Yeah?”

“This is nice.”

Atsumu smiled. “Yeah it is.” He ate the last bite of his sandwich, balled up the wrapper, and stuffed it in his pocket. “What about me?”

“What?”

“Am I nice?”

“You’re tolerable,” Sakusa said, eyes on the water.

From Sakusa, that was a solid compliment. Atsumu could have, should have left well enough alone.

But he never could let things go.

“Can I ask ya a question, Omi-kun?”

“Sure.”

“What did I ever do to make ya hate me so much?”

“You think I hated you?”

“It seemed like it. Since ya joined the team, at least, but in high school, too. I knew ya were grumpy with everyone, but it seemed like there was somethin’ about me specifically that bugged ya. And—”

“And?”

“And ya deleted me on Facebook!” Atsumu sputtered.

Sakusa burst out laughing. It was a strange sound, one Atsumu hadn’t heard before. Sakusa covered his mouth with his hand, giggles shaking his whole body. 

“What!?”

Sakusa kept laughing. “How old are you, Miya?”

“Five months older than you! Answer the question.”

Sakusa wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “I never hated you,” he said. He turned his attention back to the creek. “I just didn’t like you.”

“But why?”

“At training camp, you were so… loud. Not your voice, although that was pretty loud, too. But you were just… everywhere. You got along with people, you made them laugh. Everyone loved hitting your tosses. You were… popular. I didn’t get why everyone liked you so much.

“I didn’t know how to be like you. I wasn’t— I didn’t have an easy time in school. I was awkward and didn’t know how to talk to people. I felt really fucking uncomfortable with myself, all the time. To me, you were a reminder of how much I didn’t fit in, because you fit everywhere."

“So, you were, what— jealous of me?” Atsumu asked. None of this made sense.

“I was envious of how happy you were.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to laugh. “And here I thought you were smart, Omi-kun.”

“What?”

“You thought my life was great back in high school, huh? Tell me what ya thought about me back then.”

“I just did.”

“No, the real shit.” Atsumu’s voice was acidic. “The mean stuff.”

“Miya—”

“Tell me!”

Sakusa squared his shoulders. “Fine. I was jealous of you, but I also thought you were obnoxious and selfish and cocky.”

Atsumu laughed bitterly. “Sounds about right. Dontcha think everyone else thought that, too? Dontcha think _I_ thought it? All my braggin’, my temper tantrums— ya think I acted like that ‘cause I was _happy?_ ”

Atsumu jumped up, untying the drawstring of his pants.

“Um, what the fuck?”

“Ya see this?” He tugged the waistband of his pants down at his hip. There was a tattoo there, a semi-colon, the dot of which was a volleyball. “Ya seen a tattoo like this before, Omi? Ya know what this means?”

Sakusa stared, frozen on the rock. “Yes.”

“I got this on my eighteenth birthday. I wasn’t fuckin’ happy. Who’s makin’ assumptions, now?” 

Atsumu slumped to the ground, lying flat on his back. He closed his eyes. He felt like going to sleep right there.

“I’m sorry,” Sakusa said. He sounded far away. “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody does, ‘cept ‘Samu and my parents. Guess it’s like ya said. People don’t ask.”

“Are you— are you better, now?”

Atsumu was… more _medicated_ than _better_. But he’d come a long way. “Mostly.”

Sakusa was quiet for a long time. “This place,” he said. “It makes you happy?”

“Yeah.”

Atsumu opened his eyes. Sakusa hovered over him, his mess of curls falling over his face. He held out a hand.

“Then let’s keep walking.”

Atsumu took his hand. He had never touched Sakusa’s skin before, not even for a high five. It was rough, callused from volleyball. He pulled Atsumu off the ground.

“Miya?” Sakusa said, once they were back on the path.

“Yeah?”

“I like it here, too.”

*

“Bokkun!”

Atsumu set the ball high, giving Bokuto the perfect opportunity to smash it down into the other side of the court. Unfortunately, Barnes and Tomas blocked it, sending it back to their side.

“Got it!”

Hinata slid under the ball and bumped it right to Atsumu. His receives had seriously improved since high school; Brazil had been good to him.

This was it. If they wanted to get past Barnes and Tomas, they couldn’t use power or speed. They needed to confuse them, throw them off. They needed a spin.

Atsumu jumped. He set the ball fast and hard. “Omi-kun, yours!”

Sakusa was already moving. He hit the ball right at the block. Atsumu was hoping for a wipe, but it passed through Barnes’ arms instead. Inunaki was waiting, but his receive was off. The ball spun off-course, flying out of bounds. The whistle blew twice. The monsters took the practice match.

Coach Foster stood, hands on hip, at the side of the court. “Now _that_ was damn impressive. You two make a good team when you’re not biting each other’s heads off.”

Atsumu glanced at Sakusa. “We do, huh, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa smiled. “I guess we do.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers up to manga chapter 401 in this chapter :)

_Kita Shinsuke: Good luck today! I’ll be watching and cheering you on._

_Miya Atsumu: thank you Kita-san <3 <3 <3 say hi to obaachan for me _

_Kita Shinsuke: I will :)_

*

“What’s your problem?”

“Huh?” Atsumu looked up. Sakusa was staring at him over his mask.

“You look like you’re going to cry or something.”

“Nah, yer imaginin’ things, Omi-Omi.” He hastily shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“Alright,” Coach Foster called across the parking lot. “Bus is loaded. Let’s get going.”

“You wanna sit with me?” Atsumu asked Sakusa as they headed for the door.

“Does the bus have enough seats that I can sit by myself?”

“Nope. Ya gotta share.”

“Then fine.”

“Flattery’ll get ya everywhere, Omi-kun.” Sakusa snorted a laugh as Atsumu followed him onto the bus. Atsumu didn’t know how it had happened, but Bokuto’s suggestions had worked. At some point during the time they were forced to spend together, Sakusa Kiyoomi became Atsumu’s friend.

Atsumu took the window seat behind Hinata so he could bug him; Sakusa slid in beside him. He put on a sleep mask along with his face mask, leaving only a small strip of exposed skin on the bridge of his nose.

“Ya look like a mummy,” Atsumu said. “Or a bank robber.”

“How can I rob a bank if I can’t see?” Sakusa lifted a corner of the eye mask. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Nah.” Atsumu couldn’t sleep on buses. He preferred the time-honoured tradition of staring out the window and making himself sad.

“Can you wake me up when we’re half an hour away?”

Atsumu had gone from gum on the bottom of Sakusa’s shoe to someone he trusted as much as an alarm clock. “I’d be honoured.”

Sakusa sunk back into his masks. “You’re weird.”

“Yeah, I’m the weird one.”

What was strangest of all was how comfortable Atsumu felt with him. He wasn’t fun, like Bokuto or Hinata, or the casual friends Atsumu went to bars with. He, frankly, was not all that pleasant to be around most of the time. But there was something to be said about the fact that when he had told Sakusa — for reasons he was still not sure about — his deepest, darkest secrets, he hadn’t run. If anything, he seemed to like Atsumu all the more for it. He wasn’t like most of the friends Atsumu had made as an adult. He was more like Aran or Suna, someone he’d known forever. Someone like—

Atsumu’s phone buzzed.

_Miya Osamu: are ya here yet_

_Miya Atsumu: like an hour away_

_Miya Osamu: bleh. I’m bored_

Someone who saw the good and the bad, and stuck around anyway.

Atsumu fiddled with his phone, thinking.

_Miya Atsumu: if you’re bored i got something you can do for me_

*

“Wow,” Hinata said, looking around the arena. “This is… wow.”

“Didn’t you play here in high school all the time?” Sakusa asked.

“Yeah, but… this is different.”

Bokuto smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

Atsumu elbowed Sakusa. “Ya nervous, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa had his mask on, but Atsumu knew that underneath it, his mouth was a hard, straight line. “Yes. Are you?”

“Hell yeah. It gets easier with every game, but it never goes away.” He gave Sakusa a soft punch in the shoulder. “Just do yer best.”

Sakusa looked at him, eyes blacker than ever. “I will.”

*

They won. They beat Hoshiumi, and Ushiwaka, and Romero, and, most importantly, they kicked Tobio’s ass. 

Their victory belonged to Hinata, but it still felt damn good for Atsumu. With a miraculous amount of self-control, he resisted the urge to rub their win in anyone’s face. Seeing Hinata happy was enough.

They would have to debrief as a team, but now, everyone was searching for their families and friends. Meian’s wife and kid were there, as well as some guys Atsumu recognized as friends of Inunaki. Hinata, it seemed, knew half the people in the audience. Bokuto dragged Akaashi to centre court and kissed him long and hard, cameras clicking from all directions. 

Atsumu was lucky to have one family member present. He’d have to share with those who had no one.

He found Sakusa on the floor of all places, lying flat on his back. “Ya know that floor’s probably disgusting, right?” Atsumu had been dripping sweat on it all night.

Sakusa grunted. “Too tired to care.”

“Heh.” Atsumu stuck out his hand. “Ya hungry?”

“Starving.”

“C’mon then, big guy.” He dragged Sakusa to his feet.

They made their way to Onigiri Miya, which, for once, was not surrounded by a huge crowd. Osamu spotted them before they reached the counter. “Took yer ugly ass long enough to come say hello.”

“Was too busy winnin’ the game to talk to the commoners,” Atsumu said. “And ya better look in the mirror before ya call me ugly!”

“It’s the hair. It makes ya look like a highlighter— oi, get off me, you stink!” Atsumu had jumped over the counter and given him a sweaty hug. “Nice to see ya again, Sakusa-san,” he added.

Sakusa inclined his head. “You, too, Miya...san.”

“Oh, he gets a -san!? Psht.” Atsumu climbed back over the counter. “‘Samu, give us our food, then we’ll see who Sakusa respects.”

“Gimme a sec. I gotta boil water for his.”

Sakusa shot Atsumu a look. “Relax, I’m not makin’ ya eat onigiri. I got him to make ya somethin’ else.”

Osamu put the kettle on. “So what’s it like bein’ on a team with this shithead?” he asked Sakusa.

“Miya— Atsumu’s personality aside, he’s a passable setter.”

“Passable!? I’m number two in the league, and if I remember right, we just beat number one!”

“Ya certainly are number two,” Osamu said, laughing at his own joke. Sakusa, to Atsumu’s surprise, laughed along with him.

Oh, this was not good. “Introducin’ the two of ya was a horrible fuckin’ idea.”

“Introducin’ anyone to me is a horrible idea for you,” Osamu said. “They see right away that I’m the better twin.” The water had finished boiling; he poured it into a styrofoam container and brought it to the counter.

“Okay, Sakusa-san, ‘Sumu told me ya don’t like onigiri. We’re gonna need to have a longer conversation about that one day, but for now, I made ya some chazuke.”

“Did ya add the umeboshi?” Atsumu prodded.

“Yeah, I can fuckin’ read, thanks.”

“Good.” Atsumu turned to Sakusa. “Is this okay, Omi-kun? Can ya eat it?”

Sakusa was making a weird face. It was hard to tell with his mask on, but he almost looked angry. “It smells delicious,” he said curtly. “Thank you, Miya-san.”

“No problem.” Osamu, too, was giving Atsumu a strange look. “You eatin’?”

Atsumu decided not to question them. “Yeah, gimme a tuna mayo, and a mentaiko for Shouyou.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Osamu passed him two onigiri. Atsumu took them, grabbed Sakusa’s sleeve, and ran. “Thanks, bro!”

“Ya gotta pay for those!”

Atsumu laughed. “Put ‘em on my tab!”

They ran all the way to the clubroom. The rest of the team was already there. “We were waiting for you,” Coach Foster said.

“Sorry, Coach,” Sakusa said.

“We needed food,” Atsumu explained. “We’re growin’ boys!” He tossed one of the onigiri at Hinata. “Here, Shouyou-kun.”

“I want one too!” Bokuto whined.

“Check yer husband’s pockets.”

They listened to Coach’s debrief, Atsumu chewing on his onigiri. Atsumu found these talks boring at the best of times, but it was worse after games they had won. They’d played well; why couldn’t they leave already? Finally, he finished up and dismissed them to shower.

Sakusa took his — empty, Atsumu was pleased to see — takeout container to the trash. He headed for the door. “Where ya going?” Atsumu said.

“Back to the hotel. I’d prefer to shower there.”

Atsumu frowned as he watched him leave. Was there something wrong with his chazuke? He could have at least said thank you.

Most of the crowd, including their families, was gone by the time the teams finished showering. Waiting for them outside the change rooms were Akaashi, one straight-laced guy and one delinquent looking for Ushiwaka, and Osamu. He gestured for Atsumu to follow him down the hall, away from the others.

“Dontcha got rice to ball?” Atsumu asked. It wasn’t like him to hang around after games.

“It can wait. Needed to ask ya somethin’.”

“So ask.”

Osamu stared him down. “When were ya gonna tell me yer datin’ Sakusa?”

Atsumu’s jaw dropped. “Fuckin’ pardon me?!”

“Sakusa? Yer teammate? Colon on his head, wears a mask? Ya finally get a boyfriend after years of whinin’, and ya don’t even tell me?”

Atsumu’s head spun. “What the hell are you— Omi-kun and I are not dating! We’re just friends!”

Osamu’s face went from surprised, to confused, to knowing. “Ah, I get it. Ya haven’t confessed yer love yet.”

“What fuckin’ love!? Are ya high, ‘Samu?” Osamu burst out laughing. “This ain’t fuckin’ funny!”

“Oh my god,” Osamu wheezed. “Oh my god.” If he didn’t stop laughing, Atsumu was going to hit him. “Yer so fuckin’ dumb.”

Atsumu hit him. “Excuse me?”

Osamu kept laughing. “Ya don’t even know! Ya don’t even know.”

Ushiwaka’s friends were staring. Atsumu pushed Osamu further down the hall and grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t know what?”

“Unhand me, pig.” Osamu pried Atsumu’s fingers off him and straightened his shirt. “What I was _tryin’_ to say was: ya don’t even know ya like Sakusa, dummy.”

Atsumu stepped back. “I dunno what ya smoked before comin’ here—”

“‘Sumu, ya had me make him a special meal. Ya told me his favourite food to put in it. Ya stare at him the whole game, ya bring him over to meet me like yer bringin’ him home to meet the parents— what am I s’posed to think?”

“That we’re friends,” Atsumu repeated, though it sounded less convincing. “That’s— that’s it, ‘Samu, we’re just friends.”

Osamu’s phone rang. “I gotta go back,” he said. “Just use yer head for somethin’ other than volleyball and think about it, okay? And don’t do anything stupid.”

Atsumu huffed. “When do I ever do anything stupid?” 

“All the damn time. C’mere.” He pulled Atsumu into a tight hug, then took off down the hall, leaving him alone.

“You okay, Tsum-Tsum?” Atsumu turned around. Bokuto and Akaashi were the only people left.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“We’re gonna go out in Kokubuncho. You wanna come?”

“Uh, maybe later.” Atsumu’s voice was flat. “I’m gonna go back to the hotel.”

“Okay! Text us if you wanna meet up!” Bokuto bounded away, oblivious to Atsumu’s mood. Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

Atsumu walked back to the hotel on autopilot. He did as Osamu said: he thought about Sakusa, and came to the conclusion that Osamu was fuckin’ nuts. There was nothing going on between them, nothing at all. Maybe Osamu had been reading too much romantic manga lately.

The elevator doors opened at Atsumu’s floor. He walked down the hall, turned the corner, and stopped.

Sakusa stood there, fresh from a shower in slippers and sweats, buying a drink from the vending machine. It was one of the green juices he liked. He twisted the cap off, yanked down his mask, and took a sip. It was a scene Atsumu had seen a hundred times, but this time, it was different. Like Atsumu had never been watching carefully enough before.

He noticed that Sakusa’s sweatshirt, old and faded, embroidered with the name of his university, looked soft, but his hair looked softer, wet and dripping down the back of his neck. That his legs were stupidly long, and strong under the loose fabric of his pants. That his moles were not a colon, as Osamu had said, but periods, two full stops stacked on top of each other. Because that’s what Sakusa was to Atsumu: a full stop. Someone who stayed.

Sakusa noticed Atsumu standing there and frowned. Atsumu wanted to wipe it off his face.

“Atsumu,” he said. Not Miya. _Atsumu._ His voice rang like a bell, and Atsumu made a decision.

He crossed the hall. Sakusa raised his hand to his mask, but Atsumu caught his wrist. “Don’t. Please.”

“What are you doing?”

“Omi-kun.” No. _“Kiyoomi.”_ Atsumu breathed the name in; it felt so, so right. “Would it piss ya off if I kissed ya right now?”

Sakusa’s frown deepened. For a moment, Atsumu was sure he was going to bolt, or maybe punch him.

Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Atsumu’s.


	6. Chapter 6

Atsumu had always thought of Sakusa as hard, like a living statue, like the guy from the Twilight movies he absolutely did not watch all five of. And parts of Sakusa _were_ hard; Atsumu had seen his abs in the locker room and knew if he touched them, there would be no give. His shoulders, where Atsumu planted his hands while they kissed, were broad and solid.

But his mouth? It was _soft,_ warm and wet when Atsumu pressed his tongue inside. He tasted of toothpaste, which was so Sakusa it made Atsumu smile against his lips. He didn’t even mind that he had to lean up on his toes to kiss him, even though Atsumu hated anyone taller than him on principle. He could have stayed there all night.

He could have, had a door not opened in the hall, making them fly apart. The two teams had booked the entire floor, so it was definitely someone they knew. Sakusa had his mask to hide his blush, but Atsumu could only imagine how flushed he was. He struggled to control his breathing.

Hoshiumi rounded the corner, dressed for clubbing. “‘Sup nerds.”

“Kourai-kun. You look sparkly.”

“Are you two going to bed already? It’s early.”

Atsumu was halfway to saying something stupid like, _no I’m not going to bed with Sakusa, why would ya say that!?_ when Sakusa spoke up. “Beating you was rather tiring,” he said icily.

Hoshiumi paused, unsure whether or not to be insulted. He shrugged. “Whatever. ‘Night, weirdos.”

“‘Night, Kourai-kun.”

The elevator doors opened and shut. Atsumu exhaled loudly.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best place to make out.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “It was your idea.”

“Yer the one who kissed me!”

He didn’t lower his mask, but Atsumu thought he smiled. “Yeah, maybe.” He cleared his throat. “I would, uh, invite you to my room, but I’m not sure when Hinata’s coming back.”

“Right. Well, mine’s empty for the night.” Bokuto would be sleeping in Akaashi’s room, as he always did when Akaashi made the trip to away games. It was tradition for Atsumu to spend the bus ride home plugging his ears as Bokuto explained in too much detail how they’d spent their night. “If you wanna…”

“I guess that would be okay.”

Atsumu took his sleeve and led him down the hall towards his own room. He had been careful, when they kissed, not to touch Sakusa’s skin. Sakusa had said Atsumu didn’t bother him, germ-wise, and they had touched hands, however briefly, before, but he didn’t want to upset him unnecessarily.

As they walked back to Atsumu’s room, Sakusa slipped his index finger around Atsumu’s pinky, holding on tight.

It was a small thing, but it hit Atsumu in a big way. He stopped a few feet from his door. “Dammit, Omi, I don’t think I can let ya in.”

“Why?”

“I think I gotta take ya on a date first.”

Sakusa blinked. “You want to take me on a date.”

“Yeah, if you’ll let me. Bein’ teammates and stuff… I think we should probably take things slow.” Atsumu kicked himself mentally with every word. Why did he have to choose this moment to learn self-control? “I just realized I like ya an hour ago—”

“An hour ago? Oh my god, did you brother have to point it out to you?”

“No!” Atsumu said. “Maybe.”

“And here I thought you were smart.”

“Yeah, well, how long have you known!?”

“That you like me? A couple weeks, at least.”

“No, idiot.” He leaned into Sakusa’s space. “How long have ya known ya like me?”

“Who said I do?”

“Oh, don’t pretend. Yer a bad liar, _Kiyoomi.”_ Atsumu was rewarded with a sharp gasp and Sakusa’s pupils blown wide. He smirked. “So, how ‘bout that date? Next Saturday? We don’t have a game.”

“Fine.”

Atsumu moved to kiss him again, but Sakusa turned away, heading back to his room.

“Aw, come on! One more!”

“Not until you wine and dine me.”

*

Atsumu said he would plan the date, but Sakusa, the control freak, decided he had to have some say in it, too. They ended up each planning part of it and keeping it secret. Sakusa insisted they do his part first, so they met after lunch and took a train heading north. “Ya gonna tell me where we’re goin’?”

“Nope.”

They ended up in the suburbs, skyscrapers giving way to houses and low apartment buildings. After a short walk from the train station, they stopped at the gates of a large, private high school. Itachiyama.

“Interesting choice for a first date, Omi-kun. Ya wanna show me all the old makeout spots?”

“Shut up.”

They walked toward the gym; Atsumu heard the sound of volleyballs hitting the floor before he saw them. Inside, both the girls’ and boys’ teams were practicing.

“Sakusa-senpai! Guys, Sakusa’s here!” The players from both teams gathered around the door to greet them.

“Holy shit, is that Miya Atsumu?” one of the girls said.

Atsumu preened. “The one and only.”

“Wow, you guys kicked Adler ass last week!”

“It was so awesome!”

“Um, thank you,” Sakusa said. “How’s training? Semi-finals are in a few weeks.”

“It's going well. Are you staying for practice?” the boys’ captain said. “Because we’re working on a new synchro attack, and we could really use—”

“Don’t hog them!” An enterprising girl shoved him out of the way. She addressed Atsumu. “Sato Minako. I’m the starting setter. Can you show me how to do that thing where you bend over backwards to set?”

Twenty grinning faces looked up at them. “Do we have time?” Atsumu whispered.

“It’s the whole reason I brought you here, dummy,” Sakusa hissed back.

Atsumu turned back to the kids. God, he loved an audience. “So, the key to the back bend is core strength…”

*

When they left practice three hours later, Atsumu sent Sakusa home on his own. He needed to stop at his own apartment to grab supplies. They hadn’t actually spent much time together at the gym, hurrying back and forth trying to help both teams. It was fun — Inarizaki was so far away that Atsumu didn’t get nearly enough cool-senpai attention — but he was excited for the two of them to spend some time alone. He showed up at Sakusa’s door out-of-breath from running.

“Knock, knock,” he said, after opening the door and walking in.

Sakusa was on the couch. “Why don’t you actually knock instead of saying it?”

“Why would I— ah!”

Sakusa jumped. “What!?”

“I forgot about the gremlin you live with.” Atsumu patted Mimi on the head. She didn’t seem happy about it, but at least she didn’t hiss. “I think our relationship’s improvin’.”

“Be nice to her,” Sakusa chided. “What’s in the bags?”

“Sex toys, obviously.”

Sakusa’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Very funny.”

“I had ya there for a sec. Don’t worry; it’s nothin’ sexy. Come in the kitchen.”

Atsumu unpacked the two bags he had brought: rice, umeboshi, latex gloves, tuna, nori, and a face mask. He slipped the mask on.

“So, I was hopin’...” Shit, he was nervous. What if Sakusa hated this?

“You were hoping…?”

Atsumu took a deep breath and began again. “I know ya don’t like eatin’ onigiri ‘cause people have touched it,” he said in a rush. “I thought maybe, if we made our own, and wore gloves and masks and everything, ya might wanna try it. I don’t want you to miss out ‘cause of yer mysophobia—”

Sakusa tugged Atsumu’s mask down and kissed him on the lips.

Atsumu’s brain briefly stopped working. “Ya kissed me.”

“You pronounced mysophobia right.”

“Twentieth time’s the charm.” Atsumu gestured to the food. “Is this okay?”

“It’s… pretty good.”

“Omi-kun. Yer such a charmer.”

*

“So?”

They sat on the floor, side by side in front of the coffee table. Sakusa swallowed his bite. “The umeboshi one’s the best.”

“Of course _you_ would say that.”

“I still don’t like the tuna mayo. But overall, they're good.”

“I’m glad ya like ‘em.” Atsumu finished his last few bites. Under the table, his foot brushed against Sakusa’s. “Can I ask ya a question?”

“Sure.”

“Not that I didn’t have fun, but why Itachiyama?”

“I spend a lot of time there, helping the team.” Sakusa paused to wipe his mouth with a napkin. “I wasn’t always happy there as a teenager, but going there now feels good. I guess I wanted to…”

“Speak up, Omi-kun.”

“I guess I wanted to share that with you, Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s breath caught. The atmosphere in the room was very different than it had been a moment before. “Yeah, I’m gonna kiss ya now,” he said.

Sakusa’s lips were as soft as Atsumu remembered, but the kiss was rougher, tongues and teeth coming out. There was no one to interrupt this time, and Atsumu had had enough of taking things slow. Before he knew it, he was shoving the table away and climbing into Sakusa’s lap.

An embarrassing noise escaped his lips when Sakusa’s hand slipped down to his ass. “Yer room empty this time? Or ya got Hinata hiding in there again?”

“I fucking hope not.”

Inside the bedroom, Sakusa pushed Atsumu up against the door and kissed him wildly. “Eager much?” Atsumu said between breaths.

Sakusa laughed, tickling his collarbone. “Like you’re not.” It was hard to argue, especially when Sakusa pulled Atsumu’s shirt over his head and worked his way down his neck with his mouth. 

“You can touch me, too, you know,” Sakusa said, after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Atsumu muttered, unthinking. He’d been having trouble thinking about anything at all. “Wait, can I?”

Sakusa leaned back, staring at him like it was obvious.

“Don’t gimme that look! Ya gotta tell me what yer okay with. If ya don’t, I’ll do somethin’ stupid.”

Sakusa sighed. “Right. Okay.” He sat on the bed, gesturing for Atsumu to follow. 

He didn’t speak right away, and Atsumu realized his hands were shaking. “Whoa, Omi-kun.” He took his hands. “Just tell me."

“I’ve never had anal sex before, giving or receiving,” Sakusa said, blunt as a hammer. “I’m not sure if I want to. I’m not comfortable with penetration myself, but I could probably do it to you with a toy if you wanted that. I’m okay with oral sex, but we would both need to shower first.” He stopped as abruptly as he’d started. His hands felt heavy in Atsumu’s.

“Okay,” Atsumu said. “That it?”

“What? Yeah, that’s— that’s all.”

“So I can touch ya? Anywhere?”

“Yeah…” Sakusa trailed off. “You’re okay with everything I said?”

“Sure. I’m not gonna make ya do anything ya don’t wanna. I’d love to blow ya some time, and I don’t mind takin’ a shower first if it’ll make ya comfortable.”

Sakusa exhaled shakily. “So it’s not a dealbreaker?”

Atsumu frowned. “No. Did ya think it was gonna be?”

Sakusa didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed Atsumu again, gentler than before. He shoved him back onto the mattress and loomed over him.

“Atsumu.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you, too.”

Atsumu blinked. “I kinda figured—”

“I never actually said it,” Sakusa clarified. “And I wanted to. So… there. I like you.” He looked away. “More than a little bit.”

Atsumu tried, and failed, to hide the grin spreading over his face. “Dammit, Omi-kun, I like ya a lot, too. Now quit bein’ a sap and let me wreck ya already.”

*

They made it three weeks before the team found out. 

During practice, the two of them pulled off a back attack they’d been working on for weeks, and Atsumu got a little too excited. Sakusa went in for a high-five, which he was slowly learning to do with everyone, and Atsumu kissed him instead. It wasn’t until Sakusa went rigid in his arms that he realized what he’d done.

“Um,” Hinata said. “UM?”

“What, what?!” Bokuto yelled. “I wasn’t looking!”

“Sakusa and Miya… kissed?” Barnes said.

“WHAT!? Oh my god, I’m calling Keiji right now.”

“Hey, guys—” Atsumu said weakly. He was ignored.

“Adriah-kun,” Meian said quietly. “You owe me a thousand yen.”

Atsumu felt like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t think of a single useful thing to say. Sakusa, for his part, had shut down completely, like someone had pressed his off switch.

Coach Foster pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Miya. Sakusa. Could you two go wait in my office, again, please?”

Crap, back to the principal’s office. “C’mon.” Atsumu tugged at Sakusa’s sleeve until he followed him out of the gym.

So, thing was, they hadn’t really talked about what this _was_ yet, and now Atsumu had gone and outed Sakusa to the whole team, both as gay and as someone who would actually date Miya Atsumu. Atsumu didn’t know Sakusa was pissed or upset or both. He had grabbed his mask from the bench as they left the gym, so Atsumu couldn’t read his face. Maybe that was why he had done it.

In the office, they sat in the same chairs they’d occupied six months earlier, not speaking. Coach Foster followed them in.

He sat down slowly, like a weary traveler who had finally reached the inn.

“This is not,” he said, “what I had in mind when I told you two to get along.”

“That’s fair,” Atsumu said.

“I thought, maybe, you could go get a beer together or something, talk things out. But apparently, that was not what you had in mind.

“So what is this?” he asked them. “Are you just messing around? Because if so, that could cause problems for the team—”

“We’re together,” Sakusa said. Both Foster and Atsumu started. “I’m gay, and we’re together.”

“Together?” Coach Foster repeated. “Together, like, in a relationship?”

“Yes.” Sakusa glanced at Atsumu. “Right?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Foster said. “You don’t _know?”_

Atsumu grinned. “If Omi-kun says we’re datin’, we’re datin’.”

Foster ran a hand through his hair. “And here I thought you had decent taste, Sakusa.”

“Believe me, I question it every day.”

“Aw, don’t be mean to yer _boyfriend,_ Omi—”

Coach Foster raised a hand to stop Atsumu. “If this is real, I’m happy for you. Shocked, but happy.” He picked up a pen, twirling it between his fingers. “Do you want to make this public?”

“Definitely not,” Sakusa said.

“Okay. We’ll keep it under wraps. If you change your mind, you know I’ll support you. In the meantime” — he pointed the pen at them — “there’s an expression in English. PDA. Do you know it?”

Sakusa nodded while Atsumu shook his head. “Public display of affection,” he translated.

“Ah.”

“I don’t wanna see any during practice again. I get enough trouble with that from Bokuto already.”

“There will be no more PDA,” Sakusa said firmly.

“Aw, not even a little bit?”

“Miya—”

“No lovers’ quarrels in my office. Sakusa, you can go. Miya, stick around for a sec.”

Atsumu wondered if he was going to get in trouble. He was, after all, the one who did the kissing. “What’s up, Coach?”

To his surprise, Coach Foster clapped him on the shoulder. “I just wanted to say I’m really glad you’ve found someone. You’ve seemed… calmer, the last few months. It suits you. Are you happy with him?”

Atsumu wanted to make a joke, but his eyes were suddenly very watery. “Yeah, I am.”

Foster nodded once. “Good. I think Sakusa will be good for you. Try not to be a bad influence on him.”

“Rude!”

“Just calling it like I see it.” He dismissed him with a wave. “Run along now, kid.”

Atsumu found Sakusa waiting for him in the hall. “What was that about?”

“He was askin’ what we wanted for a wedding gift.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, dummy. He said he’s happy for us.”

“Oh. Good.” Sakusa checked that the hall was empty, then slipped his mask down to give Atsumu a kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy, too. However, if you _ever_ kiss me during practice again, I will murder you, and I will plan it well enough that no one ever finds your body.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t hurt me, Omi-kun. Ya like me way too much.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes, but at the end of the hall, he held the door open for Atsumu, taking his hand as they walked through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! thanks to everyone who followed along and left such nice comments. when i started writing this, i felt like i knew atsumu pretty well but didn't get sakusa at all, and now i feel very well-acquainted with both of them. i hope to write more for this ship sometime in the future! in the meantime, you can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com.
> 
> also: the reason i set this in Tokyo instead of Osaka was simply because I wanted Bokuto and Akaashi to live together. I'm a baby who can't stand the thought of them having to be in a long-distance marriage!


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